Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys,

And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave; Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,

What are they?—the haunt of the tyrant and slave!

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,

The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain; He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,

Save love's willing fetters-the chains o' his Jean!

THENIEL MENZIE'S BONNIE.

MARY.

TUNE-The Ruffian's Rant.

IN coming by the brig o' Dye,
At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
As day was dawin in the sky,
We drank a health to bonnie Mary.
Theniel Menzie's bonnie Mary,
Theniel Menzie's bonnie Mary;
Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie,
Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
Her haffet locks as brown's a berry ;

And aye they dimpl't wi' a smile,
The rosy cheeks o' bonnie Mary.

We lap and danced the lee lang day,
Till piper lads were wae and weary;
But Charlie gat the spring to pay,
For kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

--

THERE 'LL NEVER BE PEACE.

TUNE-There are few guid Fellows when Willie's

awa.

By yon castle wa', at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, though his head it was

grey;

And as he was singing, the tears down came, There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.

The church is in ruins, the state is in jars ; Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars; We darena weel say't, though we ken wha's to blame, [hame. There'll never be peace till Jamie comes

My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd.

It brak the sweet heart of my faithfu' auld dame[hame. There'll never be peace till Jamie comes Now life is a burthen that bows me down, Since I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown; But till my last moments my words are the [hame!

same

There'll never be peace till Jamie comes

THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY. To a Gaelic Air.

THERE's a youth in this city, it were a great pity

That he frae our lasses should wander awa; For he's bonnie and braw, weel favoured and a',

And his hair has a natural buckle and a'. His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue;

His feckit is white as the new-driven snaw; His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,

And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a.'

For beauty and fortune the laddie's been. courtin';

Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted, and braw;

But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her,

The penny's the jewel that beautifies a'. There's Meg wi' the mailen that fain wad a-haen him ;

And Susie, whose daddy was laird o' the ha';

There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy

But the laddie's dear sel' he loes dearest of a'.